


Family constellations

by stjarna



Series: AoS Advent 2016 [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AOS Advent 2016, All mistakes are my own, Bus Kids - Freeform, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Daisy on the Run, Gen, Mention of Jemma Simmons - Freeform, Post-Season/Series 03, Pre-Season/Series 04, Some bus kids, bus kids flashback, night before christmas, prompt: stars, sad but fluffy, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 19:18:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8765716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: It's Christmas Eve. Daisy is on the run. Grocery shopping does not go as planned.Written for Day 6 of the AOS advent 2016 organized by the wonderful theclaravoyant on Tumblr.Writing prompt: stars





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: It is my head canon that Daisy is a potty mouth. Be warned. [Although this fic isn't even that bad in that respect ;) ]

Maybe going after a Watchdogs splinter group in Wisconsin in the middle of fucking winter hadn’t been the greatest idea. It was getting cold in her van.

She wanders aimlessly through the supermarket aisles, taking her time partly because she’s trying to warm up and partly because her mind keeps wandering anywhere but the task at hand.

 _Buy food, idiot!_ she tries to tell herself. _Vodka doesn’t count!_

But another voice inside her brain replies, _Hey, shut up, alcohol’s festive. It’s the night be for Christmas for fucks sake!_

After half an eternity, she ends up in the checkout lane with a bag of chips, beef jerky, and the desperate wish to hit the liquor section. The family in front of her is taking their sweet time to pack up their fifty bags of groceries.

They’re still trying to get organized when Daisy finishes paying. She tries to squeeze past them, when the mother grabs her by the elbow.

“Excuse me,” the brown-haired woman says, her eyes shimmering friendly enough that Daisy resists the urge to punch her for touching her without warning.

The woman continues when Daisy doesn’t say anything in return. “I’m really sorry that we kept you waiting in line for so long.”

“Oh,” Daisy huffs surprised. She hadn’t exactly expected an apology. “Umm. No worries. I have nowhere to be,” she mutters, unsure how else to reply.

“Our daughter wanted to give you something,” the presumed husband chimes in, gesturing at a blue-eyed, chubby-cheeked toddler—maybe 3 years old—who smiles widely, stretching out her short arms from where she’s sitting in the shopping cart. Her little fingers clutch a thin, plastic-wrapped envelope of sorts.

“They’re stickers!” the girl exclaims excitedly. “Stars! They glow!”

Daisy looks from the kid to its mother and father. They all share the same warm and loving smile, and Daisy feels like a fist clenches down on her heart.

“Ummm,” she mumbles. “Thank you. But… you don’t have to. They’re yours,” she tries to politely decline the kid’s offer.

“Please take them,” the woman replies. “She thought you looked sad, and stickers always cheer her up so she thought they would cheer you up, too.”

“It’s Christmas Eve,” the man adds. “Consider it a gift from a very tiny, very loveable Santa.”

Daisy swallows, fighting back tears and the urge to throw her arms around this family of strangers.

Her hand trembles as she reaches for the little package that the little girl is still holding. She looks angelic with her curly ash blond hair, blue eyes, and beaming smile.

Daisy’s lips twitch, torn between wanting to feel grateful and happy for this moment and wanting to go back to the dark hole she’d been digging for herself, the one filled with grief, anger, and heartache.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she finally whispers, smiling and crying at the same time.

“Merry Christmas,” the girl’s mother says and gently puts her hand on Daisy’s arm before gesturing to her husband to leave.

Daisy watches them leave the supermarket, tears streaming down her face. As soon as the doors close behind these friendly strangers, she heads to the exit herself, increasing her speed with each step, desperate to return to the safety of her van, away from the public eyes that just witnessed her breakdown.

* * *

Ice had started to form on the windshield, so Daisy heads straight for the back of the van. She’s sitting cross-legged on her brandnew, way-to-expensive, suitable-for-temperatures-way-below-freezing sleeping bag. But she’s not ready to sleep yet. She pulls her leather jacket a little closer, staring at the flat little package of glow-in-the-dark, star-shaped stickers of various sizes.

 _I made up constellations, you know_. Daisy hears Jemma’s voice, a faint memory of a conversation she had almost forgotten, or had wanted to forget. _I picked a star for everyone at home, everyone who had influenced my life at some point, even some of the nasty bastards for some reason. It made me feel less alone. Gave me hope that’ll I’ll return._

Daisy takes the plastic sleeve and opens it to pull out the sheet of stickers. She takes a deep breath and stands up. Slowly she removes sticker after sticker and places them on the roof of her van.

When she’s done, she picks up her camping light and holds it up to the stickers.

She sits back down and shimmies into her sleeping back, grabbing the bag of chips lying next to her and opening it.

She turns off the lantern and looks up at the seventeen stars shining dimly down at her.

“Merry Christmas, guys,” she whispers as a smile flashes across her face. “Wherever you are.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'll leave it up to you to decide who the 17 stars represent.


End file.
